Mail Order Promises

by Julianna Blake

  “You don’t think—”

  “Doc, I know—he’s got her rolled up in that rug. He planned the whole thing—he used the rug in case any neighbors spotted him, so they wouldn’t think he was carrying a body. Oh, Heaven help me, she’s dead, isn’t she?” Jake reached out, clinging to Paca to steady himself.

  “Not necessarily.” Doc touched his fingers to his lips, thinking. “I noticed earlier that my locked cabinet had been rifled through—I had a terrible migraine, and went to get a little Chlorodyne for it. I saw things amiss, and thought Gabriel must have also had a headache, and took a bit of Chlorodyne, himself. But maybe he took something else—some ether, or chloroform—something to render her unconscious.”

  Jake sighed with relief. “I hope you’re right. Then we have to stop him. I think he has something terrible planned.”

  “Is it possible you’re wrong? What would he have against Lilly?”

  “I don’t know, he packed up most of Lilly’s things, and made it look like she left me. I only realized the truth when I saw that the rug was gone, and a few of Lilly’s personal belongings were left behind. That’s when I found a shard of a broken drinking glass—I think maybe she threw it at him, to defend herself. He tried to clean up the mess—make it look like she just up and left.”

  “Could the glass be left over from the break in?”

  Jake shook his head. “I cleaned up underneath that settee myself, and I remember teasing Lilly for not trusting me, and double-checking to be sure that I hadn’t missed anything. Trust me Doc, he’s going to do something with Lilly, and had hoped for whatever reason that I would assume she left me.”

  Doc scraped his hand over his jaw. “I didn’t want to believe it, but…”

  “Doc, if he knocked her out, rolled her up, and took her in your wagon out to your remote hunting cabin, do you think he’s there for a medical examination? He’s going to kill her…or worse. We don’t have time to waste—I have to find her. How do I get to your cabin?”

  “I’ll hitch up my buggy and lead you right there. I just hope Gabriel didn’t leave me with Veredus—contrary to his name, that horse is anything but swift—”

  “No! I can’t wait for you to get your buggy hitched up at the livery. I figure he might have as much as an hour head start on us. I have to go now! It might already be too late.”

  “We should bring the sheriff in on this.”

  “There’s no time—I have to go. You can stay behind and get the sheriff—call him, you have a telephone, and so does the jail—then you lead him up there.”

  “Jake, I don’t like this—”

  “I can handle a dandy like Foyle—just so long as I get there in time. Now, tell me how to get there.”

  Doc relayed the directions as concisely as he could manage. Jake thanked him, then hoisted himself up into the saddle and slapped the reins, charging headlong down Main Street.

  Please, don’t let me be too late, please don’t let me be too late, he prayed as he urged Paca to go faster, leaving town and heading west from Helena at breakneck speed.

  Chapter 28

  “Wake up!” The harsh voice was followed by another kick to the bed.

  Lilly was just becoming aware of her surroundings. Her mouth was dry, her tongue thick, and her eyes didn’t seem to want to open.

  Before she even opened her eyes, Lilly remembered where she was. Dr. Foyle! He had tied her hands together, leaving her laying on the bed…

  But something wasn’t right. Her hands weren’t tied together anymore. She forced her eyelids open, blinking against bright light from a nearby window. It usually was only that bright in their bedroom in the mid-morning, the only time of day the sun shone directly into the windows, after it rose above the homes across the alley, filtering between the bushes in the yard. But somehow she knew it had to be much later than that…

  When her vision cleared, she realized she was not at home. The bed she laid on was not her own. And her hands and feet were no longer bound together, but outstretched, with each limb tied to a different corner of the dusty iron bed. She was still clothed, though her skirt had risen up to her knees, and her hair fell in disarray over her shoulders.

  “No,” she murmured, her voice little more than a creaky whisper. She looked around to see that she was in a cabin of some kind. At the foot of the bed stood Dr. Foyle, his arms crossed, a wry smile about his lips.

  “Sleep well, did we?”

  She pulled against the many-layered strips of cotton that tied her securely to the bed. She appeared to be bound by a cut-up cotton bed sheet. “Where am I?” She fought to keep the fear from wavering her voice.

  “Oh, don’t you worry. We’re somewhere that daft husband of yours will never find you. Not that he’s looking, of course. Remember? You just left him. Packed all your things and walked out the door, just like his first wife.”

  “No! You monster! Let me go.” She fought against her bindings. She had to get free. She had to let Jake know that she was alright, that she had never left.

  “This really is amusing—watching you struggle so pathetically. I’m enjoying it much more than I anticipated.”

  The fact that he enjoyed her distress made her stop—she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, and there was no point in trying to break free when he was standing right there to force the chloroform-tainted cloth over her nose again. Her only hope was that he might leave the cabin for some reason, giving her time to work herself free.

  “Now then, let’s get started.” It was the tone of a doctor preparing to examine a patient. She saw him lift a black medical satchel from the floor and place it on a chair he’d situated beside the bed.

  As he did so, she took the opportunity to examine the small, one-room cabin she was being kept in. It was dusty, with plain, a dark green curtain at the window and an old quilt on the bed made of multi-colored squares. There was nothing in the way of decoration—everything had a plain purpose. On the far wall, however, stood a bookshelf filled to overflowing with thick tomes. Most of the titles were in too small a print to read from the bed, but the word “anatomy” jumped out from one volume. Could this be his home, then? No, it’s too remote. She could hear the sounds of nature and nothing else outside the cabin. They were far away from the noise and bustle of Helena that served as Lilly’s daily auditory background at home.

  Dr. Foyle opened the bag wide and took out a black cloth, which he shook out and laid delicately over the single bedside table.

  One side table. Only one occupant for the bed, then. How did I get here? If she could remember, she might figure out where she was.

  Her foggy mind let bubbles of memory slip through…awaking during the bumpy ride in the wagon, unable to move anything but her head and feet. She was somehow bound or wrapped up securely. She wanted to scream, but his warning about the chloroform came back to her, and she stopped herself in time. The ride seemed interminable, but eventually they arrived at their destination.

  He had unrolled her roughly in the back of the wagon—only then did she realize she’d been rolled inside the parlor rug—and told her he’d be dosing her one last time with chloroform, and not to distract him as he measured out the amounts. She remembered him bragging that only a skilled doctor could correctly dose that way, without an apparatus. He went on and on about his skill and intelligence, and other bizarre, grandiose ideas about himself. It was all a blur. Then he made her inhale the chloroform-treated cloth, and blissful darkness enveloped her again.

  Until she awoke tied to the bed.

  A small part of her wished she could retreat again into another unconscious stupor—but she knew if she gave in to that weak part of herself, she might never see Jake again. There had to be a way to get free, to gain the upper hand…

  “This is going to be a delight, I must say—well, for me, at least.” Dr. Foyle’s smile was enticing—if you didn’t notice the dead, black look to his eyes—and it wasn’t hard to see how he’d gotten away with years of cheating a
nd lying. By his own admission, he’d wooed many a woman into his bed—or sometimes forced her, it seemed, by reading the true meaning between his own statements. He clearly saw it as women giving themselves over to him, whether he had to lure them into submitting willingly, or he had to force himself upon them.

  Dear God…please, please don’t let him touch me…

  Foyle buttoned up a black smock of some sort over his clothes, then removed a handsome, polished wooden case from the medical bag, and set it on the chair as well. He opened it, revealing a red velvet-trimmed interior, with a custom-shaped depression for each shiny tool. He lifted the slim knife from it, which he’d threatened her with back at the apartment, and laid it on the far end of the table, carefully aligning it with the table’s edge.

  “I took the liberty of borrowing some of Archer’s surgical instruments. He won’t miss them—he primarily has them for taking up to the mining camps. He says it’s rare that he uses them in the office anymore—anyone who is seriously injured or severely ill is usually taken to one of the hospitals. I believe him. I’ve been in this godforsaken town for two months now, and I’ve yet to treat anything more serious than a fracture or a laceration. But I digress.”

  He winked at her, with all the pleasantness of a jolly doctor trying to put his patient at ease—a far better bedside manner than he’d shown her in the examining room a month prior. But then, his mood seemed quite improved, as well. Chillingly so.

  “In addition to his instruments, I have quite a few of my own. Archer says they’re a waste of money, but I disagree. You never know when you may have an opportunity for a truly interesting case. Or, in your case, an opportunity for exploratory surgery.”

  “What?” A flush of icy dread swept through her.

  “I must keep my skills sharp, after all,” he continued as if she’d never spoken. “And you…well…I think it’s only fitting, since you disrespected my occupation, my position, and my intellect, that you ‘give back’ in some manner.”

  “Give back?”

  “Yes. Make reparation for your grievous offenses. Women need to learn their place. Obviously you didn’t learn your lesson the first time around, when you ended up pregnant and unwed. Of course, that’s probably due in part to Morgan riding in like a knight on a white steed, saving you from the life of shame you so richly deserved.”

  “You’re insane!”

  He turned then, his frosty glare the only indication of the rage that welled within him. “I’m sure you’d like to think so. You’d like to blame your problems on anyone but yourself. The truth is, if you and your husband hadn’t been so quick to dismiss me—to push past me as he did in the office one day, or to not even give me the courtesy of a greeting or even meeting my eyes, as you did when you came in just yesterday—you wouldn’t be in this mess, would you?”

  Lilly’s eyes followed Dr. Foyle’s hand as he reached toward the wooden box, with its fearsome contents.

  Chapter 29

  Jake repeated his prayers for Lilly’s safety over and over as Paca galloped as fast as she was willing to go. Every second that passed felt like an hour, and it felt as if he would never get there.

  All he could think about was the horrible things he said to her when he had learned of her pregnancy, and when he’d read the note attached to the vase full of flowers. He had blamed her both times without giving her the slightest chance to explain, when in reality, it was just his own fears and insecurities that prompted his fury. The worst thought of all was the tearful expression on her face each time, and her attitude of patience and acceptance…as if somehow, she deserved his wrath, despite her innocence. And he thought about the baby she carried, which he realized he loved and wanted every bit as much as if the baby was his own.

  What if he kills her? What if she dies alone, calling out my name? He couldn’t live with himself. The crushing guilt tore at his heart—the thought of her lying somewhere…in pain…in fear…crying out for him…wishing for him to save her, and despairing that he’d ever come…

  He swiped at his eyes with the back of his arm, and urged Paca to speed up. It’s not going to happen! I’m going to get there, and she’s going to be alright….she has to be alright.

  ***

  “Now, would you like me to tell you what each of these items is for? Or shall I keep you in suspense?” He smiled, examining the small device in his palm. He held it up, not waiting for her response, and allowed her to see its levers as well as the sharp, curved protrusion. “This is a spring lancet, used in phlebotomy—that’s bloodletting. I believe it to be a useless procedure—perhaps even harmful—but quite entertaining.”

  He placed the spring lancet on the table beside the slim knife. “And of course, you’re already familiar with the scalpel. Then this,” he reached into the bag, pulling out a small, shiny saw, “is obviously a capital saw—for the amputation of weight-bearing bones.” He tapped the side of the saw against her leg, and she shivered. “Like the legs.” He placed it on the small table.

  With each new, gleaming abomination that he removed from his bag, Lilly’s heartbeat quickened, and her breath came in shallow pants.

  On and on he went, removing from the kit various scalpels, a scarificator, trephines for removing small round sections of the skull, bone cutting forceps, retractors, several slim curved metal staves and catheters, the slender curved and pointed bistoury, bullet forceps…the array of instruments fanned out across the black cloth, each instrument of torture more horrifying than the last. He described each instrument’s use in vivid detail, until Lilly thought she would lose her last vestige of sanity.

  “You can’t do this. Surely you are not a man so completely without morals—I am expecting a child!”

  “A bastard. That hardly counts. Nothing more than a lump of flesh, yet to be formed.” He paused, staring off into space, the corners of his mouth twisting upward, as if he was lost in the nostalgia of a fond memory. “You learn the most fascinating things during the vivisection portion of anatomy classes.” Then his emotionless gaze returned, to rest on Lilly. “And let us face it. People like you...the world is better off without you. My father always said that if imbeciles and housemaids were not allowed to procreate, our world would be a better one. If only intelligent, talented people were allowed to bear children, the level of average intelligence would rise, poverty would decline, and the world would experience a great revival in art, literature, and science.”

  He picked up the bistoury and held it in the light from the window, examining it. “I don’t expect you to understand. The poor, the mentally deficient, the bold women of loose morals…none of you could ever understand. You believe you should have the right to live however you want—to push out as many children as you wish, as if you are no better than livestock, while those of us in the upper echelons of society have enough self-restraint to limit ourselves to only two or three children at most. An ‘heir and a spare’, as is said of English nobility. That leaves more wealth and resources available for future generations. It’s all quite simple, really. That,” he pointed the bistoury at Lilly, “is why America needs a real man in power. A man who knows how to take control and guide this country in the direction it needs to go, in order to become a true political power in the world.”

  Lilly gaped. “And you think you are that man?” This deranged, cold-blooded murderer wants to lead the United States of America one day?

  “Why not? Who would be better suited? President Foyle,” he sighed in pleasure, as if he could intuit what she was thinking. “Doesn’t that sound magnificent? I admit, I’ve had a setback. My plans had been to become a world-renown surgeon by age twenty-five, in Washington, D.C. Once I made a few influential friends—whose loved ones I had saved from inevitable death—it wouldn’t be hard to make a few promises, pay off a few politicians, do a few favors, and next thing you know, I’ve got a senatorial seat. I could have been the youngest president to ever hold office. I still could be, but my plans have been—er—delayed by a few y
ears, being stuck in this outpost of despair.” Now he sighed with consternation. “But no worries—I’m a resilient man. Once I dispose of Archer—”

  “Dispose of Archer! But…why?” Lilly was flabbergasted, for a moment forgetting her own peril.

  Foyle shook his head in a patronizing fashion. “Lilly, my dear, how can I ever excel in this town with Archer standing in my way? I’ve inquired in town for a position at one of the hospitals—as loathe as I am to work in such tiny hovels as you call hospitals here—but none of them would give me the slightest chance. They babbled on about loyalty and not feeling comfortable taking on someone that Dr. Archer had paid to have brought out here. Clearly the only way to break free is to eliminate the man who stands in my way.”

  He set the bistoury down on the table. “Once I’ve had my fun with you, I’ll bury you in the grave I already have dug out in the woods for Archer. Then, unfortunately, I’ll have to dig a new one for him, and when the time is right, I’ll lure him to a fake house call on my day off, where I’ll lay in wait. I’ll take him at gunpoint to the cabin, where I’ll shoot him right at the foot of his own grave, and roll him into it. Then it’s just a matter of heading back to town and showing up the next day for my day to work.”

  “No one will believe that he just disappeared one day! Especially after I’ve disappeared, as well.”

  “Oh, but you forget—you ran off with a man,” he chuckled. “And Archer has already had trouble with the miners—in fact, I’ve heard him discuss it not only with your husband, but other doctors and a few other people around town. Besides, I’m a marvelous actor—I would have been a star upon the stage! I won’t need to show concern at first—there will be a note left on the desk—which I’ll force Archer to write before he’s dead, of course—saying that Archer went up for an urgent call at the mining claims.

  “When he doesn’t appear for a few days, I’ll go to the sheriff, terribly upset that my dear friend Dr. Archer hasn’t returned yet. They’ll assume a drunk miner did him in. Since he has no family, I’ll be able to take over his practice. He’s already consulted an attorney about drawing up papers. I only have to wait until they are signed.”